


A Lovely Offer

by mephestopheles



Series: Trope Bingo Prompts [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Thorin, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Rimming, Smut, heartsong AU, piercing kink, plot got on my pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4327179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mephestopheles/pseuds/mephestopheles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins doesn't have a heartsong. What he does have are two very handsome dwarves on his doorstep. What is a hobbit to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Offer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrivingArtist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrivingArtist/gifts).



> This was brought on in reaction to reading a lovely but heart-rending mafia au fic last weekend. [Here, There be Dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/679603). Not for the faint of heart, the warnings are important on that one. 
> 
> This fic has no relation to that fic, just a reaction. I needed something fluffy and wonderful and smutty and adorable because my heart couldn't take it. 
> 
> All thanks go to Striving-artist (she says I can't gift all my smut to her, HAH) for corralling my run-ons and tense issues. Unintentionally but rather interestingly we ended up writing heartsong aus, with very very different outcomes. Please if you're a fan of having your heart ripped out and stomped on, go read [Sweet Music](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4283931). It's a glorious piece and a wonderful take on heart song aus, with a seriously angst ridden ending. 
> 
> A Lovely Offer is pure fluff, I think it could probably give you cavities. Also if the characters appear in any way ooc, it is explained further down. I'm not sure if I can even call this pwp anymore since it's over 9k. Also part of my trope Bingo card it fills the Soulmate Au square .

In a hole in the ground there lived a lonely Hobbit without a heartsong. He would never say he was lonely, rather that he enjoyed his solitude, and wasn’t one to socialize. This may all be truth, but the look of unrepentant longing in his face when he beheld the intimacy of those around him spoke otherwise.

Bilbo Baggins was a well respected Hobbit of the Shire. And a prince, though he did not admit such readily. He wasn’t ashamed of his Took heritage, he was quite proud of his mother and her family. But the quiet little hobbit had inherited very little of his father, save for their family home. So when the line of succession had been settled, and he had been quietly but most assuredly pushed aside, he took the name Baggins and settled into his father’s home.

He had just settled down to supper when there came a knock at his door. If it was Gandalf again, he grumbled to himself as he stood made his way to answer the rather insistent knocking. Nosy bastard of a wizard, hadn’t Bilbo already said no? That should have been the end of it. But no, the wizard was nothing if not persistent. He’d give him a piece of his mind, just see if he didn’t.

Bilbo threw the door of his smial wide, opening his mouth to give the wizard a tongue lashing he’d never see coming, only to garble incoherently. Standing before him were two very tall, very intimidating, very handsome dwarves. Mother of all that was green, they were gorgeous.

Damn Gandalf. That wizard did not play fair.

Both of them bowed in unison. They were impeccably dressed, and both of them had several weapons on their person. One was bald with tattoos ringing his head and Bilbo couldn’t help wondering how many more the dwarf might have beneath his clothes. The other was decked in rich blue, with long black hair that was silvering in places. Both were bearded, and he could see flecks of silver and gold from the jewelry they wore; including the cuffs on their ears. _Oh by all that was green, both of them were pierced._ Was that a dwarven thing? Bilbo cleared his throat, just a bit, hoped the heat in his ears didn’t extend to anywhere visible. It had been a terribly long time since he’d enjoyed any carnal pursuit and now was not the time to be thinking of such things. And certainly not with regards to the strange dwarves on his stoop. Still, piercings and tattoos were just not done in the Shire, and the titillating possibility of discovering what lay beneath their clothing was causing havoc with his equilibrium.

“May I present to you my lord, Thorin Oakenshield.”

The bald dwarf said, and Bilbo realized he was gawping at them, mouth and robe wide open for the world to see all his secrets. He quickly tied his robe and shut his mouth with a click of his teeth, hoping his ogling hadn’t been too obvious.

“Bilbo Baggins, are your service,” He said. Politeness and habit had him stepping aside to allow them entry before he realized he hadn’t invited them, nor had they sent a calling card in advance.

“Thank you,” The dark hair dwarf said as he removed his cloak. “As Dwalin has conveniently forgotten to introduce himself, I shall do it for him. This is my husband, and shield brother, Dwalin, Son of Fundin.”

Bilbo felt a stone settle in his gut. The prickly hairs on the back of his neck raised. Well that figured, though Bilbo really wasn’t sure why he was disappointed. It wasn’t like he was in a habit of making a move on strangers who came calling unannounced to his home. He had more respect for himself than that. Well, he had more respect for the speed of the rumour mill. It was bad enough he’d let them into his home. Still, married meant both of them were off the table and Bilbo Baggins felt quite bereft at the thought.

“Pleasure to meet you both, though I’m not quite sure of the reason for the visit.”

“He said there would be supper. Is it this way?” Dwalin asked after handing the befuddled hobbit his cloak. Weapons followed and Bilbo tried not to squeak again. This was just too much. Was that a sword? Oh dear me, those were very larges axes, to fit very large hands. _Get control of yourself, Bilbo._

“I hadn’t been told to ex-“ He started.

“Now, that is no way to treat our host, Dwalin. I’m certain there’s food. Hobbits are very fond of their meals so I’m told, and Master Baggins looks the perfect image of a hobbit.”

Bilbo stared at Master Oakenshield unsure if that was a compliment. He’d been around enough of the Baggins and Tooks to recognize a backhanded compliment a mile away, but this sounded almost sincere. Perhaps the dwarf was just rubbish at compliments.

Still, rude.

Bilbo set the cloaks and weapons, aside and led them through to his kitchen. “As you can see I was just sitting down to my supper, I had not been made aware of your arrival.”

The table was set for his evening repast with candied carrots and turnips in a rich butter sauce; roasted pork tenderloin was stuffed with cranberries, fennel and apples; there were potatoes, mashed, baked and scalloped with leftover ham from supper the night before. And of course there was the tossed green salad, with cucumber and tomatoes fresh from his garden, along with asparagus spears in hollandaise sauce. A mug of warm bitters steamed by the plate, and a lovely bottle of Merlot was on the table from his father’s wine cellar. And on the counter were his three favourite desserts, fresh sugary ginger snaps, lemon tea cakes with raspberry cream, and fresh peach compote.

Not nearly enough to feed himself and the dwarves.

The dwarves looked at him oddly and Bilbo blinked confused.

“You were going to eat all this yourself?” Dwalin asked, clearly disbelieving.

Bilbo humphed. “I admit I’m not one to overindulge when I’m not entertaining so afternoon tea, dinner and supper end up being one affair. Less clean up.” Hobbits would shake their heads at that and tell him he needed to find a wife, or pat his hand consolingly with a look of barely disguised pity. To eat so few meals, to have no one to share his kitchen hearth with, it was such a pity. But these were dwarves, and they were unaware of his gaff.

After a tense moment, Thorin - Master Oakenshield - apologized for their assumptions, “We were under the impression that you had been told of our arrival.”

“This has Gandalf written all over it.” Bilbo said suddenly and both dwarves looked at him in question.

“You mean he hasn’t told you?”

“When has that wizard ever told anyone anything in a timely fashion?” Bilbo waved a hand at the table. “Sit, please, and eat. I have more in the pantry and I’ll put more on. Are you all that is coming or should I expect more?”

“There are eleven others that travel with us, plus the wizard.”

Bilbo gulped.

“Stew it is then. Give me a few moments please.”  

He made to duck out of the room and was caught by a thick hand on his wrist. He looked up to see Dwalin, and he swallowed with difficulty. The room had gotten too small in the last few seconds and the large dwarf was entirely too close. Or maybe he wasn’t close enough. He definitely should have taken up that offer from the Tunnelly boys last October, he’d not be this desperate now. Dwalin’s fingers on his skin were too warm, too electric. Just his thumb against Bilbo’s pulse point had his heart hammering in his chest. He still hadn’t spoken, simply stood there in the juncture between the hall and his kitchen, his hand limp and his wrist caught in Dwalin’s much larger, much stronger hand. He hoped he wasn’t visibly trembling. Valar that would be embarrassing, having that reaction, and he could just imagine the response it would get. Silly little hobbit hadn’t gotten any in a while and now was a trifle desperate to drop trou for two handsome dwarves.

It really bothered him that he had a type, and that type was generally summed up with the words big, tall, strong. Was he imagining Dwalin’s thumb caressing the inside of his wrist? He couldn’t tell. His body was giving him mixed signals. Some told him to flee with his respectability intact, others were begging him to bend over.

“You’re scaring him.”

“Am not.”

“He’s trembling.”

“Yer right. But it’s not because he’s scared.”

Bilbo let out laugh that was two parts hysterical giggle, one part disbelief. Dwalin’s hand slid down his arm and he was most definitely caressing him, oh Valar. He found himself guided to his seat and sat down at his table. Warm breath puffed against his cheek and Bilbo’s eyes closed of their own accord.

“Now, eat your sup. The others will not arrive for some hours yet. And you should hear our tale first before you start making supper for all of our company.” Dwalin said against his ear.

“I’ve encountered many dwarves as they sell their wares in the market, and in Bree. I’ve never met any quite so considerate. I didn’t think you were fond of outsiders.” Bilbo queried, “Or is that just specious rumour?”

“Dwarves are not terribly fond of outsiders,” Dwalin said, the deep burr of his voice vibrating against the shell of Bilbo’s ear. “But we have our reasons.”

Bilbo bit his cheek as Dwalin’s lips and thick beard accidentally brushed against his ear. It had to be accidental. There was no way this large, imposing, very handsome dwarf was flirting with him in full view of his husband. Bilbo managed to look over at Thorin and failed at holding back the weak flutter of his heart beating in his chest. He looked magnificent, and amused. Not angry.

Bilbo was terribly confused.   

So he did what he usually did when he was confused and he started eating. He filled his guest’s plates first and then his own and sat back down, trying not to pay attention to their eyes on him. It was rather difficult. Both their gazes were very direct and Bilbo was unused to being stared at.

No, he was used to that. He was an oddity amongst the other hobbits, unmarried at this point in his life. Bilbo was quite aware of the rumours, thank you very much. Sad business, with Mister Baggins up on the hill, no heart song to speak of, just a lonely hobbit with a penchant for flighty thinking and bothersome adventures. _Such a shame._

These dwarves’ gazes were not the inconspicuous staring around the market. No, they were open, frank, and considering, but not unkind. He urged the two of them to eat so they would stop gawking and he was pleased to note the second they dug in all appraisal stopped. Praise was quick to follow as both dwarves consumed their food between gasps and murmurs of pleasure. Bilbo tried not to preen, but he did pride himself on his cooking and his garden. He poured them wine and dug into his own meal.

It was companionable, and there wasn’t much said as they enjoyed supper. Both of them tried to help when he cleared the table but he wouldn’t have any of it. He looked scandalized enough that the two quickly took their seats again. He put the kettle on and cleared the table of the dishes. The task was done and finished by the time the kettle whistled its boil and he set out the dessert and tea, puttering around to find the milk.

Once again he felt large hands on him, guiding him back to his seat and settling him into his chair. This time it was Thorin, and he did not mistake the lingering graze of his fingers along Bilbo’s side. What the devil was going on with these two dwarves? They were wed for Eru’s sake. Before he had a chance to busy his hands with dessert, Dwalin handed out the iced tea cakes one apiece.

“I imagine Gandalf has told you nothing of our reasons for being here,” Thorin stated as he sat down once more.

Bilbo tried not to mourn the loss of warmth at his side and nodded. “He mentioned something of an adventure, but did not elaborate. He caught me off guard and I thought I had sent him on his way over to Tuckborough to find someone willing.”

“It is more than a simple adventure, Master Baggins. If you would be so kind I should like to tell you a story. You are free to decide after I have explained all. And we promise not to burden you overmuch.”

Bilbo didn’t know really what to say to that, so he nodded and hid his mouth behind his tea, holding the cup between two hands, high enough to inhale its calming aroma.

“Long ago, far to the east, my people lived in a shining city. Erebor. One of the largest and most prosperous Dwarven cities in all of Middle Earth. Its halls were filled with golden light, and its walls were a deep green with seams of gold and silver running through them like rivers.

“We were a strong and proud people, and my grandfather, Thror, was our King. He ruled with a generous heart and a deep abiding love for his people. His prosperity came at price though. Through his gains he became afflicted with a curse that plagues our line. He became distant, began hoarding our treasures and the wealth of the people.”

Thorin looked pained. Unbidden, Bilbo reached out and placed his hand on Thorin’s. Thorin bestowed on him a small smile. The very corners of his mouth raised briefly and he pat Bilbo’s hand gently before he continued.

“Unbeknownst to us a threat loomed. A dragon from the north came one day in blistering heat and fire. It swept across our mountain and destroyed all living things upon it. It burnt Dale to ash. The City of Men had once been our ally and it suffered because of the wanton malice of the fire drake. It crashed through our gates, defiled our home, and killed all who did not get out of its way. Including my grandmother.”

“Oh that’s horrible, I’m so sorry,” Bilbo said and squeezed Thorin’s hand again. He was familiar with loss, though his had been seen from a long way off and had been planned around to the point where the grief had been mixed with relief and guilt. He could not imagine losing so much so suddenly, and so violently.

“Our story does not end there. It is rather the beginning.” Thorin took a breath and continued. “We spent many years in exile searching for a new place to call home. We attempted to open old dwarven halls. I was very young when the dragon came, just twenty-four, and only fifty-two when my father took us to Moria.” He shook his head. “It was not meant to be. Our homes had been overrun by foul creatures of the dark and their evil lay about it. We could not root them from the place. Many died, and my father succumbed to the madness of our line. I am ashamed to admit these truths to you, but I feel you must know the truth, Master Baggins, before you sign on with us.”

Bilbo looked at both dwarves, stunned silent. His hand had not left Thorin’s, and both of them were staring at him as if waiting for a response. Did they really think he’d be callous enough to take familial illness as a sign of weakness? Bilbo cleared his throat. “You have suffered great losses, and your family has been, it appears, singled out in their travails. What you have told me so far is deeply heart breaking, but I hear nothing that would make me think you should be ashamed. To think you have survived such trials, that would be something to celebrate, would it not?”

“Oh, I like him.”

“You are not helping.”

“Yes I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Master Oakenshield, is there more to your story? I fear I still do not understand my role or my usefulness.”

“After my father succumbed to madness, he fled; no one knows where and despite many years of searching, he has never been found. I have led my people since that time, and we settled in the Blue Mountains some years ago. It has been as close to a home as our people have known, but it is not Erebor. It is not the home of my birth. Many believe that this is an avaricious quest to reclaim the gold that lays within the treasury. I can tell you truly, the gold is not my motivation. I have seen what gold does to those unwary of its power. I want to bring my people back home, Master Baggins. I was unable to secure the army I had requested, so I have gathered a loyal company of dwarves.  This quest will require stealth. And this is where you come in. The wizard has told us you are a burglar of some repute.”

“Burglar!” Bilbo stood and jostled the table. “Of all the rotten, no good, ill-conceived, ridiculous notions I have ever heard. I-I-I am not a burglar. I have never stolen a thing in my life.” He paused for a breath. “Aunt Mira’s spoons do not count. That is simply a game we played. The nerve of that wizard. When I get my hands on him, I shall--” He let out an undignified growl.

It took several minutes for him to calm down. Neither dwarf said anything, but they had the decency to look abashed. Such a horrible, rude thing to say. He never stole anything. Nicking an item here and there from his family’s homes was just a bit of fun. He always made sure to display it and invite them promptly over for tea so they could admire his skill. It was all in good fun. “Just why do you want a burglar anyway?”

“The dragon may be dead. It likely is.”

Dwalin snorted and Thorin shot him a look that had Bilbo looking between the two of them. “We need someone small, light enough to be silent, to look inside Erebor and report back if the dragon is deceased or not. And if possible to reclaim a treasured gem of my people.”

“A gem?”

“The Arkenstone. It is a symbol of my right to rule and with it, I can call upon all the armies of the dwarrow and then we can take care of the dragon, should it still remain a problem.”

“So you want me to sneak in, hide from a dragon, and find a gem.” He blinked. “And if it’s dead?”

“You let us know, we give you fourteenth share of the treasure and should you ever wish to return home, you will accorded all the pomp and circumstance due you for your help in reclaiming the lost homeland of the dwarrow.”

Bilbo just sat there and waited. “Y-you’re serious. You two and eleven other dwarves plan to storm a mountain with a dragon inside? Alone?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted backwards to stall the headache.

“I understand this is a terrible imposition, Master Baggins. The council has tied my hands and I am left with few options. One of them is to wait -- which I cannot do any more -- the other is to take those willing to join me and storm the mountain. I realize this is folly, I understand the odds are very low. If there was another way, that ensured the safety of everyone, I would take it.”

“How long?” He clarified. “How long has the dragon been in your home?”

“A hundred and seventy-one years.” Thorin’s voice went hoarse and Bilbo felt an echo of marrow-deep pain.

“Well, this is all happening rather sudden,” he groused. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a bit more consideration? Don’t want to rush into anything.”

“As I said, Master Baggins, you have my deepest apologies for intruding. Thank you so very much for the meal, it was delicious, and thank you for listening.”

“I didn’t say no.” he said suddenly. “You said others are arriving, yes? I don’t suppose I have time to make arrangements.”

“What kind of arrangements? Do you have family you need to notify, we were under the impression you did not have a wife?”

Bilbo laughed, it figured. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one Gandalf was keeping secrets from.” Bilbo stood. “No, I’m unmarried. Rather it’s my family I should notify. Word that I left with a troupe of dwarves will spread fast over the Shire and by the time it gets to my grandfather, he’ll be told I’ve been kidnapped. The last thing you gentlemen need is an international incident to reconcile on top of a dragon to slay.

“I need to get dressed. Lounging about in my dressing gown is one thing with equals, quite another with your company.” He was in the hall when they asked.

“Who is your grandfather, Master Baggins?”

“Gerontius Took, King of the Shire. My mother was Princess Belladonna.”

“So you are a prince.”

“Hmmm? I’ll just be a moment.”

 

***

 

It was several moments later before he was dressed appropriately. He was glad for the clothing, his earlier vulnerability around the two handsome dwarves was not something he’d like repeated. There was certainly no way the two of them were flirting with him. That was just the absurd, foolish whim of a lonely hobbit.

What was truly foolish was his consideration of their quest. How was he expected to sneak into a treasure room with a dragon? If they needed supplies or a bankroll he could certainly do that. But to go with them? That was plain folly. He hadn’t picked up a weapon since he was a tween; had never liked it much either. When it became obvious that his lack of heartsong would cut him from line of succession so he didn’t have to worry about maintaining his noble mien, he was just as glad to be rid of it. Bilbo never was much of a fighter: a part of his character he had prided himself on till now.

To leave his duties here at home and go jaunting cross country with a group of dwarves? That was ridiculous. Unless it was in the interest of further relations between their peoples. His uncles would certainly buy that, and so would his grandfather.

Oh who was he kidding?

He was going to go with them because they were two very handsome dwarves and he had a type, and not the smallest bit of masochist streak, since it was obviously going to suffer a pine-from-afar-thing. He could still hear the pain in Thorin’s voice when he spoke of his home. No one, not anyone should ever have to speak of their home with such longing and heartache. So he was going with them.

He finally came out of his room with paper and his seal. The front room, dining room and other main sections of his home had been inundated with dwarves in the meantime. Bilbo gulped as dwarves wandered to and fro through his house, into and out of his pantry. “Really, I can cook, it’s not right for guests to cook their own food.”

Thorin and Dwalin were off to the side and Bilbo looked over to them pleading. They were utterly useless and only bowed at him. “It is not right for a prince to serve others from his table by his hand. Whether he’s an excellent cook or not.”

Bilbo snorted and wended his way around the other dwarves. “You two are bad enough. I’m certain you can get some order over this lot, yes? There’s truly no need for them to cook. I can have a stew set up rather quickly.”

“It is no trouble, Bombur is our resident cook and he was delighted by the sight of your pantry. Let him cook and let the others eat. We have much more to discuss, including how to address you.”

He took them into his study, away from the noise and general rowdiness of eleven dwarves and a wizard raiding his larders and his wine cellar.

“Bilbo is fine, it’s what my friends call me.” He said. Not that he had many friends. Even Hamfast, his gardener and someone Bilbo very much considered a friend, insisted on calling him Master, or ‘your highness’. He took his father’s name for a reason, so that he could get away from all the trappings of Tuckborough.

Thorin and Dwalin smiled at him. There was such warmth in their gazes that Bilbo stifled the urge to clear his throat. Dear Eru, and by all that was green, those two smiling was horribly distracting and wickedly unfair. Bilbo licked his lips and looked down at the useless papers in his hands. What was he doing?

Oh right.

“I have to write my grandfather, let him know where I’m going. I’ll spin some tale that I’m helping improve relations among our peoples. No need to tell him about a dragon. Not just yet, anyway. I need to also send a letter to my cousin Prim. She’s going to be in charge of Bag-End while I’m gone and my gardener Hamfast will handle the rest. I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but I’ve never really done this before.”

He was standing by his writing desk when he felt a hand brush across the back of his spine. He shivered and looked up as another hand joined the first on his back. They weren’t crowding him, though. Despite their height, and the touching, they were being considerate.

He’d had some offers in his time. Bilbo wasn’t a vain hobbit, but he prided himself on cutting a rather dapper figure. These two dwarves, however, were tall and imposing and so very handsome. And so very married. And this was so very wrong. Wasn’t it?

“Perhaps that is for the best, though eventually you will have to tell your family about the dragon. Sooner, rather than later. This journey is not going to be easy, and I would sooner have them know the risks to your person than make matters worse should the unthinkable happen.” Thorin said, and Bilbo could feel warmth radiating from their hands on his back.

“We have another thing we also wish to discuss with you, Bilbo.”

_Oh say my name. Please just say my name like that again,_ he thought and swallowed thickly. “A-and that is?”

“Dwalin and I have a bit of a query. It seems my dear husband has decided he is quite fond of you. He happens to have excellent taste and I agree that you are rather delectable. He is under the impression our advances would be welcomed. Is he wrong?”

Bilbo squeaked. Fond? Delectable? Bilbo’s ears burned and he stammered for an answer but his mouth wouldn’t work and he started incoherently babbling. After several painful seconds he took hold of himself and put the papers down on the desk. They still had not moved their hands. He wanted this. Since the two of them arrived in his home, he had wanted a proposition such as this.

Now it was staring him in the face and he couldn’t find the words to agree, to shout yes, or moan, anything to respond to them in the affirmative. Instead, his manners got the better of him and he had a visions of being the talk of Hobbiton. _Look at Master Baggins, taking up with dwarven folk. What would his father think of that?_ Bilbo stifled a frustrated scream, damn-it-all.

“Gentlemen, I am not a young hobbit. I do not simply jump into bed when an offer presents itself. Lovely as that offer is. And believe me,” He bit his lip. “This offer is definitely lovely. But I hardly know either of you, and I feel that this would be too hasty. We have several months of travel ahead of us, facing who knows the odds and the dangers.

“This is not a no.” he amended, “I would very, very much like to follow wherever those hands are leading. But I’m not a one night kind of hobbit. Never have been.”

Neither of them looked displeased. “You would consider something more long term?” Dwalin asked, and his breath huffed against his neck.

Bilbo moaned and closed his eyes to regain some balance. That did not help, not a single bit. It made the sensation of breath against his neck all the more intense and it took him several moments to find his centre.

“I would consider all of us getting to know one another perhaps. And if we are all still interested in something longer then yes, that is to say, I would be delighted.”

Weight settled against him as both dwarrow leaned close and pressed twin kisses to his ears. He shivered and grabbed the fronts of their shirts for grounding. They seemed content with that, their arms settled around him and he didn’t know which way to lean, both of them drawing him closer.

It took too long to break from that embrace, they were warm and kind and they didn’t seem eager to rush things, just content with standing there. He finally managed to separate from them long enough to get his letters done. He shooed them back to their company, promising to join them shortly. “Or if you have a mind you can figure out my pitiful travelling gear. I’m afraid I’m what is considered a well-travelled hobbit, but I’ve only been as far as Bree.”

 

***

 

He spent the better part of two hours writing letters and making sure all of his things were in order. He had tenants to consider and his family, and those under his employ, few as they were. He didn’t want to leave them without proper instructions. He was finishing the final letter to his uncle Longo when he heard something from the other room.

A deep basso rumble.

Bilbo felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and his hands trembled on the desk. Several voices too many to distinguish began singing, and he felt it deep in his core, a thrumming echo deep in his heart. He stumbled out of his chair and rushed into the other room where they sang. The song was beautiful, melancholy and lonely and spoke of all the loss Thorin had spoken of earlier. It settled inside him, pulsed and woke something he had long considered dead and buried.

It was common knowledge. Bilbo Baggins did not have a heart song.  No one in Hobbiton or the surrounding farthings had a deep enough register nor could they split their voice to achieve a harmony. It was bad enough the voice was deep, but to say there was more than one, that was just not so. Hobbits only had one heartsong, never two. Bilbo Baggins had stopped telling his family of his song when he was a child, at first because it upset his mother, and then so he would no longer see their pitying looks. His was no hobbit heart song. Therefore, according to Hobbiton, Bilbo had none.

Yet here it was, in the next room over with thirteen dwarrow. But he didn’t know which one. He wanted to fly from his chair, wanted to rush into the room and confront those singing, beg, plead with them to sing just for him. But he was trapped, caught within the bounds of the melody, echoed with each beat of his heart. It rebounded and filled every part of his body, he heard it, felt it, breathed it, tasted it.

By the time Bilbo came back to himself the song had long since finished and the company had chosen a new tune. He still could not move, his legs too weak, and his nerves unable to take the strain of potentially meeting his soulmate. What would he even say? How could he ask them to sing for him again. Even if they did he had no way of truly knowing who was his match, not with thirteen of them singing. And if his suspicions were correct, then he feared two of them were his soulmate, and how did that work? It wasn’t possible. There was no guarantee that the two who sang would be inclined to favor him, or even wish to entertain a relationship. They were not hobbits after all, and he was most definitely not a dwarf. By the time the music finished he had convinced himself that he was a foolish hobbit and finding his soulmates among the dwarves was a foolish errand.

This was made worse by his earlier declaration of interest to the two very handsome dwarves. Confusticate them all, how could he in good conscience carry on a relationship, even the beginnings of one when his soulmates could be among any of them?

It was a long way to the east, he had plenty time to figure these things out. Or so he hoped.

 

***

 

It was a week later and he still hadn’t figured out what to do. His situation hadn’t gotten any better. His bum was saddle sore, his body ached all the time, he fell asleep often before supper, and he was whiny and cranky when not wet, tired, chewed upon, or sneezing because of the horse hair.

What a sorry excuse for a traveller and a burglar he turned out to be.

They had arrived in Bree early that evening. He stabled his pony with the others and taken himself to the room that had been prepared for him. He didn’t know yet who he was sharing with, but he wanted to get there first and wash the grime from his abused body while he had a chance at privacy.

The Innkeeper of the Prancing Pony was wonderfully kind and he had a rather large tub brought into the room and filled. it was deeper than he had expected and Bilbo assumed it was probably dwarf-sized not hobbit-sized. Considerate for his companions, but as Bilbo had to find a chair to climb over the higher rim of the tub, he wasn’t all that impressed.

At least, until he submerged himself in the blissfully hot water and let out a deliriously pleased moan. The water went up past his shoulders, but it was a round tub and if he hooked his arms on the lip he could float a little and just luxuriate in the hot water until he pruned.

While he lay there with the water working out all of his aches and pains he was drawn back to his conundrum. So far, the dwarves had not sung as a group since that night. Yes, there had been more singing, but it had been sporadic at best. He had heard Dori, Ori and Bofur sing while on the road. All three had lovely voices but none of them were his; they did not have the depth or vocal register, and his heart didn’t feel like it was about to explode when he listened.

Bombur liked to hum when he cooked, and he had also found out the wonderful dwarf was wed and had several children. Fili and Kili were too young and while their voices were lovely, the night they regaled the company with some bawdy tunes, he was relieved to find out they were not his either. Quite relieved. He was not a young hobbit anymore, and the idea of trying to keep up with the libido of not one but two young dwarves left him a little dazed. Twas why he turned the Tunnelly boys down the year before.

The ones he hadn’t heard yet was Thorin and Dwalin, Balin and Bifur, Oin and Gloin and Nori. That was a lot of choices, but he really didn’t think it was Nori, and Gloin was married. Bilbo had made the mistake of asking one day on their journey and was regaled for hours with tales of Gloin’s beautiful wife and wonderful son.

Just beyond the door he could hear the most wonderful sound. The dwarves had started singing, and in their harmony were his heartsongs. It stole over him and he let out a deep sigh. The heat of the water and his travel worn body added to his somnolence. He leaned his head back against the lip of the tub, eyes were growing too heavy. He really should just get out of the bath, but it still felt so nice, just a few minutes, then he’d rinse off and join the others.

 

***

 

He was still cradled in warmth. It enveloped him, soaked into his muscles and spread throughout his entire body. It was heat and sound, a deep rumbling bass harmonized with a rougher baritone. Bilbo let out a soft moan and tried to get closer to the sound.

It had been years since he had dreamt of his heartsong. Ages since he’d let himself sink into the blissful dream that accompanied his every move. It had never been this strong before, never this close, never this real.

He jerked awake and flailed against the two very strong arms holding him. He was out of the bath, still dripping wet, held tightly against an obviously clothed body. Bilbo looked up but he couldn’t see anything other than beard; he was still lethargic from his impromptu nap. Matters weren’t being helped with the vestiges of the song still vibrating through him.

A towel was draped across his middle and Bilbo followed the dexterous hands up to their owner. Exhaustion and his heartsong had him dumb, walled in cotton, but he was quite sure that was Thorin. Oh dear, this was rather too lovely to contemplate.

“What in Eru’s name is going on?”

“What’s going on is you nearly drowning yourself. What were you thinking going to sleep in a bath that deep?” Dwalin rumbled, anger clear even through Bilbo’s haze. He still hadn’t let Bilbo go, and in fact his grip had grown tighter.

“I wasn’t trying to drown myself, I was taking a bath, and check the water, there’s still steam rising from it, yes? I had barely closed my eyes when you lot decided to start singing.” He groused. “Honestly, how did you react when you first heard your heartsong? It’s not as if I can control my reaction to it. Who’s brilliant idea was it to start singing outside the door?”

“Dwalin was humming, and I can’t help but join in.” Thorin said, ratting his husband out as he sat on the bed near Bilbo’s feet.

The towel did little for Bilbo’s modesty, but he hardly cared. He was still surrounded by their harmony and he couldn’t quite feel embarrassed about his present state since they were responsible for it.

“Neither of us have heard our song, not until last week,” Thorin answered.

“Last week?” Bilbo scrambled to sit up, and ended up more fully in Dwalin’s lap. “Wait, the two of you have known since last week who I was, and neither of you said anything?” Incredulity and embarrassment warred within him. Dear Eru, if they had known, why hadn’t they said anything? Was he that unwanted?

A shiver ran through his entire body and he wriggled out of Dwalin’s grasp. “Let me go.” He got to the floor and looked for his pack.

“Bilbo, it’s all right.”

“All right? You two have known, **_known,_** and you didn’t say anything!” He hissed. His ears were hot and he was quite sure he was flushed and splotchy with embarrassment. He needed to find his clothes, he needed to put something between them and this whole mess.

“Bilbo, this isn’t anything to get embarrassed over, it’s fine.”

“Stop talking before you make it worse.” Dwalin said. He stood from the bed and came over to Bilbo. He didn’t reach out, but he was close enough Bilbo could smell the leather and sweat that clung to him, feel the heat of him and he wanted to turn around. He wanted to turn around and slap them both, beat them both, or kiss them both. He wasn’t sure which instinct would win out so he kept his back turned.

“Bilbo, last week, when we arrived in Hobbiton, we scouted your home earlier in the morning, shortly after the wizard had left. You were in your garden. We thought you had company at first, the way you were talking, but it turned out you were talking to your plants.

“I’m ashamed to admit we eavesdropped and we discovered you were not very keen on going on any adventures. At first we were affronted that Gandalf would choose someone who obviously didn’t wish to leave their comforts. The problem didn’t arise until you started singing.” Dwalin cleared his throat. “You understand what it’s like to hear your heartsong. We’ve only ever heard half, and knew that somewhere out there was another piece of us, waiting to be discovered. It took a lot strength to walk away that morning, to wait until that evening to visit you. And we still showed up early.”

Bilbo slowly turned around, his shirt held tightly in his hands. “But why didn’t you say anything then?”

“You were rather intimidated by our appearance, we didn’t wish to frighten you. And truthfully we weren’t sure how you’d react to any of it. We needed to gauge your reaction to us, the quest, all of it,” Thorin said. “Also we were knackered by union of our songs, and as you can tell it takes a lot out of you the first couple of times you hear it,” Thorin admitted as he stepped forward.

“We did offer ourselves that night. You wished to get to know us. Then when we sang in your den, we were sure you would recognize us. But you never came out. We didn’t know how to react, perhaps you weren’t ready. So we thought we’d wait for you to be ready, try this get to you know you plan.”

“And then you go nearly drowning,” Dwalin added gruffly.

“I wasn’t drowning.”

“Your head was about to go underwater if I hadn’t opened that door.” Dwalin crowded Bilbo and the hobbit could feel so many things coming from the dwarf at once. He wasn’t sure if it was from the budding link between them or that Dwalin was quite easy to read when frightened. He didn’t know and he didn’t care as he looked up into the large dwarf’s deep blue eyes.

Callused hands gently slid across his face, brushed against his ears, and thick fingers curled into his hair. Bilbo let out a hoarse moan as Dwalin’s lips brushed against his. They were firm and damp and Bilbo parted his lips wider to Dwalin’s questing tongue. He shivered and each nerve from his tongue to his feet lit with a fire he knew would never be quenched.

His shirt fell from nerveless fingers, forgotten, onto the floor. He reached out to steady himself against Dwalin and brushed his tongue against Dwalin’s, drawing a needy sound from the larger dwarf. Thorin let out a harsh moan close by and Dwalin broke the kiss even as Bilbo tried to recapture his lips. Thorin closed the distance and Bilbo found himself receiving another kiss as welcome as the first. His hands trembled as he clung to Dwalin, twining his tongue around Thorin’s.

Dwalin leaned forward and kissed Bilbo’s temple and his hand slid down Bilbo’s naked back. It was then that he realized the state he was in; naked, still damp from the bath, and very much aroused. Twin kisses and he was already hard. It would have embarrassed Bilbo further were it not for the very prominent reminders of Thorin’s and Dwalin’s interest that were pressed against him as he drew closer.

Bilbo pulled back, panting, to catch his breath between them. “Both of you have entirely too many things on,” he managed, his voice cracking as he plucked and tugged at their clothing. Bilbo was rewarded with two enraptured smiles and their clothing and armour fell to the floor faster than he had thought possible.

Never underestimate a dwarf, he thought as Dwalin lifted him in his arms. Bilbo thumped Dwalin’s shoulder. “I don’t need to be carried. I’m perfectly capable of making it to the bed myself  you stubborn dwarf.” Bilbo said. Dwalin ignored his words and caught his fist to kiss his knuckles. It was a such a reverent gesture that any further protests died in Bilbo’s throat. He opened his hand to press his palm against Dwalin’s face.

Another kiss to his palm and Bilbo let out a moan of undisguised want. He had been fantasizing about these two in one fashion or another for the last week. Now that he had them, he wasn’t going to waste a moment on propriety. He leaned over Dwalin’s shoulder and grabbed Thorin’s hand and pulled him to the bed with them and pulled him close to capture his lips once more.

The three of them tumbled to the bed and he threaded his fingers through Dwalin’s hair as the larger dwarf kissed down the column of his neck. Bilbo licked his way inside Thorin’s mouth and rocked his hips into the bodies atop him. Thorin and Dwalin covered him with their bodies, settling their weight atop him until they were a tangle of limbs and questing hands. Bilbo wanted to touch everything, run his hands across the planes of muscle and furred chests. Both of them were covered in thick, soft hair and Bilbo ran his fingers through it relishing in the differences between them.

Thorin’s chest hair was thick and curled around his fingers as he traced a pattern around Thorin’s nipples. He felt warm metal against his fingers, he tugged and was rewarded with a deep moan into his mouth and Thorin’s hips grinding down against his thigh. Bilbo continued to tease Thorin’s nipple ring with one hand even as Dwalin insisted on driving him to early completion with his very talented mouth continuing down his chest to his navel.

Two pairs of hands ran along his body, teasing and coaxing more and more from him. He broke their kiss for air as Thorin’s hand wrapped around Bilbo’s length and Dwalin’s cupped his balls. Bilbo jerked his hips in a steady, pleading fashion. Dwalin licked the head of Bilbo’s cock. _Oh Valar his tongue is pierced!_ was Bilbo’s last coherent thought as warm metal pressed against the head of his cock and Bilbo arched off the bed, gasping. Thorin didn’t give him a chance to focus and he stroked him gently, rubbing his thumb over the head of Bilbo’s cock and spreading the liquid down, slicking him a bit, not enough to relieve the slight burn of friction.

Warm liquid dripped onto his length and Bilbo looked up to see Dwalin adding a bit of oil of Thorin’s hand, slicking him well. He watched, transfixed, as Thorin captured Dwalin’s mouth in a deep kiss, all teeth and tongue and harsh breathing as the pair of them worked his cock and balls expertly. Bilbo could feel his release in the trembling of his hands, the clench of his stomach. He whimpered, tried to reach more of them, they were too far, he wanted them to cover him, fill him, consume him.

He wasn’t going to last at this rate, it had been too long. Much longer than he was used to, and he wanted to explore every inch of both of them. Thorin twisted his wrist and pressed his thumb against the head of his cock and Bilbo cried out and as he came, pleasure setting fire to every nerve on the way.

Bilbo shook and collapsed against the bed as aftershocks shook through him. The muscles in his legs trembled and he whimpered as both dwarves -- intent on further torturing him on doubt -- bent and lapped at his cock. Dwalin’s tongue and that delightful tongue ring on one side of him, matched with Thorin’s on the other. He dug his fists into the bedsheets and whimpered as they licked at him, and their large deft hands roamed over his body.

He was vaguely aware of Thorin laying down next to him, the solid bulk of his muscular form radiating heat. He managed to roll over and find Thorin’s lips with his own, kissing and tasting himself there. Bilbo couldn’t help but thread his fingers through Thorin’s thick hair as he settled himself fully on top of the king. Bilbo let out a shocked gasp against Thorin’s lips as Dwalin’s tongue swiped across his entrance, pressing firmly and tormenting him with sure strokes. He shivered atop Thorin and mewled with each stab of Dwalin’s talented tongue. Thorin chuckled against his lips and ran his hands through Bilbo’s hair.

“He’s very talented with that tongue,” Thorin whispered as he kissed along Bilbo’s jaw. “The tongue ring was a birthday surprise, four decades ago.”

Bilbo could feel the metal tease against his entrance with each flick of Dwalin’s tongue and he tried to wriggle back into that teasing pleasure but Thorin had his arm slung around Bilbo’s waist and Dwalin had his hands on either hip. He was firmly locked on Thorin’s chest, his cock twitching against Thorin’s belly.

Dwalin laughed and the vibrations just drew a pleading groan from Bilbo.

“Have you got him?” Dwalin asked as he pulled back.

Bilbo whimpered, but Thorin captured his mouth in another deep kiss and pressure increased around his middle as Thorin’s arm settled more firmly against him.

One of Dwalin’s hands slipped from his hip, but his tongue took up it’s torment from before and Bilbo was lost to the sensations that cascaded across his nerves. Thorin rocked on the bed and moaned into Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo wanted to explore and touch every part of the both of them, discover all the places that made them ache, but he was thoroughly lost to the adventure of their touch. Thorin and Dwalin were bent on teasing him. Dwalin wasn’t making it easier as oil slicked fingers joined his tongue.

Bilbo shuddered and whined as Dwalin’s thick fingers crooked and pressed deep inside him. “By all that is green, if you don’t do something soon I’ll come again and be useless.” He whispered against Thorin’s beard. Thorin chuckled and lifted Bilbo with entirely too much ease so that he was further down, their cocks meeting up, and Bilbo couldn’t help but grind his hips down. Both of them shuddered and Bilbo groaned as Dwalin added another finger inside him. The bald dwarf kissed along his spine, up to his shoulder, mouthing and tonguing Bilbo’s skin until he reached his ear and nipped at the lobe, tugging it between his teeth.

Bilbo’s world narrowed down to Thorin’s cock against his, Dwalin’s teeth against his ear and fingers in his arse. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take and he shook between them.

“Hush now, Thorin’s all ready for you, has been for days. I’ve been getting him ready each night,” Dwalin said gruffly, against his skin. “He’s been near frantic for your cock, and I think it’s time we give it to him.”

“Ooh, dear me, yes. Th-that sounds like a marvelous idea.” Bilbo answered.

Dwalin slipped his fingers from Bilbo’s entrance and added a fourth, Bilbo arched off of Thorin and cried out as Dwalin stretched him.

“And I think you’re now ready to take me.”

“Yes, please, yes.”

Thorin let out a deep growl and the two of them took control. Bilbo wasn’t sure how he was moved, but the two dwarves were very skilled and Bilbo could only let out a gasping breath as he sank deeply into Thorin, feeling him clench and ripple around him. It was definitely too much and he shook and shuddered as pleasure laid waste to him. He pressed his forehead against Thorin’s chest and gasped. For pity's sake, he was acting as if he’d never been seated in someone before. Never a dwarf surely, and Thorin was hot and so very strong. Thorin’s muscles quivered and Bilbo could feel fingertips pressing into his skin. But he was still gentle with him and he was so very patient as Bilbo tried to wrest some control back.

By the time Bilbo could breathe again, he could feel Dwalin pressing his thick cock against his entrance. Bilbo let out a moan and cursed as he was filled. He was dripping with sweat and Dwalin’s rumbling moan echoed in the room. Dwalin leaned forward and pressed his forehead between Bilbo’s shoulder blades; cursing, Bilbo shuddered between them.

Interminable seconds later, Dwalin rocked his hips and set a slow pace. Bilbo clung to Thorin and followed suit rocking back to feel more of Dwalin and thrusting forward with each of Dwalin’s deft twists of his hips. There was no rhythm as they rocked into each other. It was messy and sweaty and Thorin and Dwalin moaned obscenely.

It was too much, bound by the two of them, filled and surrounded. He pistoned his hips, lost to the need that spread through him and tightened his muscles. He groaned and pleaded and cursed with each wave of pleasure as it cascaded through him. Never in all his life did he feel so complete, so overwhelmed and yet so protected.

They were his, they answered the song in his heart and theirs called out to him. He truly wanted to last, he didn’t want to end things this quickly. In desperation he reached between them and took hold of Thorin’s cock and stroked him as best he could in time with Dwalin’s thrusts.

His breath and his hips stuttered as pleasure suddenly crested and he came yet again, spilling into Thorin. Dwalin and Thorin let out dual moans and Dwalin’s hips lost all control, snapping against his, driving himself to completion. Dwalin’s hand joined Bilbo’s on Thorin’s cock and Thorin let out a yell as he arched off the bed and came, clenching around Bilbo’s spent shaft. The hobbit whimpered and twitched, and scant seconds later Dwalin found his release and Bilbo groaned as he felt heat fill him.

They somehow managed to roll onto the bed, and Bilbo curled up against Thorin’s side and hummed happily as Dwalin settled against his back. Someone probably needed to get up and fetch a cloth to clean them. But Bilbo wasn’t in control of any of his muscles at the moment. Nor, did he think, were Thorin and Dwalin, given their content hums and tangled limbs.

 

***

 

Mid-morning saw them back in their saddles, heading out of Bree. Bags of coin changed hands and there were many good natured jokes about saddle soreness. Bilbo tried not to give them the benefit of seeing him wince; his poker face wasn’t nearly as good as he hoped.

Neither Thorin nor Dwalin did anything to hide their grins, and he found himself and Myrtle near the head of the company, once again sandwiched between the two dwarves as they left the township.

He wanted to be angry at the them, but even he couldn’t keep the smile from his face whenever he caught sight of them. And fittingly, Thorin was also in the same state as he, precariously perched on his saddle, shifting to find one shred of comfort on the hard leather of the saddle. Nudging Myrtle next to Thorin, he got close enough that he bumped legs with the king to get his attention.

“Dwalin is entirely too well seated on his pony this morning. Don’t you think?”

Thorin cast a glance over to the other dwarf, and Dwalin sent them a wide-toothed grin.

“You are quite right, love, what do you have planned, Bilbo?”

“Turn about is fair play.” Bilbo said and started singing softly. The accompanying harmonies of his heartsong joined in and Bilbo felt light and happy. For the first time in memory, the hobbit didn’t feel quite so lonely.

 

 


End file.
